


Ya'aburnee

by sayoko



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 'cause i'm a lost cause, Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Angst, Bullying, Curses, Djinni & Genies, Eventual Happy Ending, HOWEVER!, Kuro and Kenma never met as kids, M/M, a sappy one, an AU in a way, and self-steem issues, but later on, in a much weirder way, not as in blue ghostly friendos but the more traditional concept, the effects of prolonged isolation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-10-05 06:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10300025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayoko/pseuds/sayoko
Summary: There were many warnings about the djinn. They were said to be tricksters, shapeshifters, bringers of misfortune, illness, and death.After meeting Kuro, Kenma figured there were always weird exceptions. And that the label of "monster" could also be applied to humans as well.





	1. Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> hello hq!! fandom i come in peace ( ; ﹏ ; )v
> 
> i know this sounds like a trip and not just because i suck at summaries and well yea it may be a trip **BUT** it will be a good one trust me just trust me on this trust me jasmine-

When Kenma stepped off the train, he was surprised to see his grandmother was waiting for him.

The surprise was not seeing her there per se; he was used to that. The surprise was that, despite Kenma insisting it was not necessary, she had gone to wait for him at the station anyway.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here…” He repeated softly, because even though he knew there was no point in saying it at that moment, he still felt guilty to see the old woman standing in the cold of the breezy afternoon.

“Ooh, don’t be silly. Home is still a long way from here. What if something happened to you along the way? It’s not safe. You’re still a kid!”

Kenma gave her a pained smile. When his grandfather was still alive and he could drive them up and down the hill where the house was, the waiting was reasonable. Now, even though deep down he was glad to see a familiar face waiting, Kenma thought it was impractical and unnecessary. He could get to the house on his own, either by foot or cab.

Besides, if there really was danger in the way, they wouldn’t be able to put much of a fight, together or not. Kenma was a 17-year-old boy who barely passed PE. Grandma Fumiko was an 89-year-old bag of aching bones, as she used to say.

“It's not a big deal. I always travel alone, grandma,” Kenma reminded her.

“And I will never understand why your mother lets you do that. But oh well, enough chat. Let’s get a taxi and go home. There’s pie waiting for us. If we don’t hurry, Takeo might eat it before we get there.”

It was tradition.

Each summer break, Kenma would visit his grandparent’s house at Kamakura. He would be awaited at the station and then driven to their house. His grandma would have something delicious waiting for them, usually apple pie, because she knew it was his favorite. He would spend vacations there, mostly indoors, even though the beach was still at a reasonable distance. When vacations were almost over, he would make the trip back to Tokyo.

Kenma wasn’t sure when this tradition had started, but he could remember very well why.

_“You have to make friends, Kenma. You can’t spend all your life isolating from the rest.”_

His parent’s voice still echoed in his head. He had been a little child, but even after all those years, he could still hear the concern, the frustration in it. But what could he do? How could he explain to them, at that young age, that he was just not cut out for that? They would have said a kid could not know that, but as the years passed and socializing remained as difficult as ever, Kenma felt himself proven right.

He was just not meant to make friends. The faster he, and everyone else, could accept that, the better everyone would be.

So well, the trip to the beach house had been a desperate try to get Kenma to socialize (how his parents expected him to make friends with strangers when he couldn’t really connect with anyone at school to begin with, would remain a mystery to him forever) but it only lasted for a couple of years before Kenma's parents gave up. Still, Kenma loved his grandparents, and they loved him as well, so even after that experiment failed, he was allowed to continue visiting.

The pressure of having to talk to loud kids at the beach was lifted, the tradition of having tea and pie with his grandparents remained.

The trip only had two problems. First: the popularity of the beach. Second: a certain characteristic of his grandparent’s house.

The first issue was not that awful, to be honest. Each year, it seemed more and more people visited the beach located right at the foot of his hill. The town would become crowded then, but it was still not as horrible as Tokyo, so Kenma could manage walking around. The nights seemed to be more troublesome, but he was never downtown at those hours to experience that.

The second issue was actually just a personal problem.

There was a stupid rumor in town.

It had been going around since as long as he could remember.

And it said that the Kozume house was haunted. Or cursed, depending on the version you heard.

Now, Kenma was not someone to believe in superstitions, much less in ghosts and curses. However, the fact that his grandparents never denied the rumor but kept joking about it instead must have left some kind of impact in his imaginative child mind, because sometimes, even now at his late teens, he would _feel_ things in the house.

It wasn’t something he could tape and show as proof to the world. No furniture was moved around and no weird noises were heard late at night, but sometimes, when he was alone, the air would suddenly stagnate around him. It would become too heavy for his lungs and, as he tried to get it past his throat, he would feel the burning stare of someone who, no matter how fast he turned, would never be there.

But that was it.

It was annoying, but it was nothing unexplainable. It had to be just paranoia, something subconscious, like his mind playing with the remnants of a childish fear, something as inevitable and involuntary as reacting to a jump scare in a video game.

That day, thankfully, he didn’t have to deal with any of that. They got home and had plenty of pie and tea, watched TV for a while, and then went to sleep.

 

Takeo was a white Pomeranian. Sometimes, though, Kenma wondered if it wasn’t some kind of rooster-dog hybrid. If he didn’t close the door of his room properly, Takeo would barge in at 5 am and lick his face until he woke up. Sometimes, his alarm clock nature would be so powerful, that even if Kenma had closed the door well, Takeo would bark his tiny lungs out until Kenma sluggishly slid the door open. Then, like the worst of cowards, it would run away.

That aside, Takeo was ok. Kenma didn’t like animals much, but it was hard not to get fond of the little dog. It was a ball of energy, and it was pretty good at keeping company, and keeping entertained.

The morning after his arrival, while his grandmother made lunch, Kenma played with Takeo with a tennis ball. The tennis ball was too big for its tiny mouth, but Takeo chased it happily anyway, and it was more of a two-player soccer match than a game of toss and retrieve.

As mentioned before, Takeo was a ball of energy, and as such, it demanded for the ball to be thrown at challenging speeds and high angles. Taking this into account, it was only natural that the ball would end up darting outside the house, or into other rooms.

That morning, the ball was shot into the only room that remained mostly empty; the shrine room.

Kenma entered on his tiptoes, trying to hush the little barking machine next to him. There was not really a need to be so ceremonious. The _butsudan_ at the end of the room may have looked too big and too dark, but it had always been there, and it had never been treated as an ominous item.

At the beginning, it had been sad to see the tablet with his grandfather’s name on it inside, but after time passed, it became somewhat comforting. Instead of a reminder of death, it became a reminder that somehow his grandfather was not entirely gone, that his memory remained with them, at the house, and that they could reach to it anytime they felt alone.

Still, Kenma tried to be quiet. That was not a place to play ball… Besides, that room had always made him feel uneasy, despite his grandparent’s indifferent attitude towards it in the past.

Kenma retrieved the tennis ball and stared for a while at the shrine. There was no incense. He wondered if he should volunteer to go downtown to buy some. Not necessarily that day, it was already ‘beach time’, but maybe the following…

A ridiculous shriek distracted Kenma from his thoughts. It had been a bark, the highest-pitched bark he had ever heard Takeo emit.

“Shhh, be quiet here.”

But the white fluff paid him no mind, and kept growling at the _butsudan_.

“Takeo? …What are you growling at?”

A soft knocking behind them made Kenma jolt. He turned around immediately. It was his grandmother, standing by the door.

“Lunch is ready,” she said with a smile.

The dog ran happily to her side, as if nothing had happened.

_And nothing really happened_ , Kenma thought as he followed suit in a much less excited way, not daring to look back at the shrine even if, in fact, nothing apart from dog shenanigans had happened.

 

That night, Kenma started having nightmares.


	2. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at least in the anime, kenma's psp is actually a _pop_  
>  -w- it cracks me up
> 
> also, hey, nightmares ahead :c but it will be alright

“Did you sleep well?” Kenma’s grandmother asked after his fifth yawn that morning.

“I had a nightmare.”

“Really? What did you dream?”

Kenma looked to the side; he was not sure what to say.

It had not started as a nightmare right away. He was dreaming of his school. He didn’t remember exactly what, but he was sure the place was his class room and the people around him his classmates. At some point, he had to go out of the room to look for someone. However, when he stepped out of it, he was no longer at his school. There was a long, dark corridor, which still felt familiar, so he kept going. He slid a door open. He was in the shrine room at his grandparent’s house in Kamakura.

He woke up from the surprise. Only a couple of hours had passed since he had gone to sleep, so he decided to forget about the weird dream and close his eyes again.

The next dream was about the beach. He was eight years old, and he was together with his mother digging clams at the shore. It felt like a peaceful memory. Then the sun was setting. Kenma took his mother’s hand to walk away from the beach.

As they walked up the hill back to the house, the forest around them turned silent and cold.

“Are we going to cook these clams?” Kenma asked looking into his toy bucket. Three clams opened and closed inside. “Mom? Are we going to eat the clams? I don't want to. I want to keep them.”

But there was no answer. Suddenly, they were already in the entrance to the house. Kenma’s mother silently went inside, and tiny Kenma followed, still pending of his bucket. When he looked back up, he was 17 again, and there was no sign of buckets or anyone else around.

“Mom?”

Hesitantly, Kenma started searching for her. Somehow, he always ended up in the corridor that leaded to the shrine room.

When it was clear there was no other path he could take, Kenma decided to go inside.

In the back of the room, the gold-lacquered doors of the shrine shined hypnotically in the dark. Next to it, his late grandfather was sitting; it looked like he was waiting for him.

Kenma woke up sweating. He decided to turn on the light and play with his POP until Takeo announced the rising of the sun.

“I can’t remember,” he told his grandmother finally, “something about school. I probably dreamt I had to go to classes again.”

Thankfully, she believed that, and giggled.

Kenma poked the yolk of the egg over his rice. The man in his nightmare had not been his grandfather. He may have looked exactly like him, but, Kenma knew it was not. His aura was entirely different; black, intimidating, suffocating.

“Talking about school, Kenma, how have your friends been?”

The question brought him back to reality.

“They’re fine…” He hummed and took a bite of chicken. He didn’t like lying to his grandma, and he had already hidden the weird dream from her, but… “Tomohiko got a girlfriend.”

“Ooh! I’m so happy for him.”

It was not entirely a lie.

Well, it was not all true, but it was not all lie either.

Tomohiko was one of his classmates. They got along, but if they could be called friends or not, it was up to debate.

Friendship was troublesome. Some people believed practically anyone you could chat with was a friend. Others believed that this wasn’t enough, and that you should know the person for some time before giving them the title. There were others who believed only people with the same tastes could be friends, while others affirmed this was completely irrelevant.

In sum, friendship could mean something to Kenma, but something so different to someone else at the same time, that he was not sure what the truth was anymore.

Tomohiko was a classmate; he was friendly to Kenma, and Kenma was friendly to him as well. However, they weren’t really close. They never met outside school. They didn’t know each other’s families. Could they be called friends? To Kenma, was Tomohiko really a friend? Were there degrees of friendship? And what if his classmate was just nice out of politeness? Was that still a friend? What if one felt really close to another person, but the other didn’t feel the same? Could they be called friends then?

Friendship was troublesome so, not to get into that trouble, Kenma talked about his classmates as if they were his friends.

Even if he didn’t really felt that way, at least to some people’s eyes, he wouldn't be lying…

To his own eyes, it still felt like a lie, so he was glad when his grandmother dropped the topic and started talking of her puppy instead.

 

 

When night fell, Kenma was prepared.

He installed his play station in the TV room and gathered pillows, blankets and snacks. He would play until so late that when he went to sleep, he would be so tired he wouldn’t dream at all.

It was almost 5 am when Kenma decided it was safe to leave the game aside. He was so tired he didn’t bother to go back to his room, and fell asleep curled up on the couch.

 

Kenma woke up abruptly. A nose, a soggy nose, was pressing against his face.

“EW! TAKEO!”

The pup ran away. Kenma looked at his phone. It was 10 am.

 

The plan worked the following night as well. Now, Kenma’s only concern was that, at this rate, he would finish the three games he had brought with him before vacations ended.

After lunch, the family got together at the TV room. The hearty meal, the summer heat, and the calm of the seaside were slowly lulling Kenma into sleep.

The house was not completely quiet. The TV was on, showing a rerun of an old drama. His grandma was at the couch next to him and was already napping soundly, soundly as in deep in sleep and snoring deeply. The dog was sleeping next to her feet, taking deep breaths as if trying to imitate its owner’s snores.

So, the house was not silent, he was not alone in the room, and the sun shined brightly outside. With all this into account, Kenma considered it was safe to take a nap.

He woke up not too much time later.

He had dreamt of the stupid room again.

 

The dream was the same. Somehow, he had ended up in the shrine room where his late grandfather was sitting next to the shrine. Now that the impact from the first time was gone, Kenma was just angry. He was angry that he was seeing his grandfather, but it was not really him. He was angry that the dream was so persistent that he could not take a simple nap in peace. And most importantly, he was angry that he had no idea what the fuck this dream even meant.

He got to his feet and went to his grandmother’s side. He was about to shake her awake when he reconsidered. Why was he going to wake her up? Nothing really had happened. Kenma was just having bad dreams. It was just bad dreams, related to his childish brain and not to an inexistent curse. If Kenma wanted to get rid of these dreams, he would have to get over whatever childhood trauma he had with the _butsudan_.

Silently, he went into the room, and sat in front of the shrine.

The cabinet was not deep, but it was very tall and the wood was dark, so it looked wider than it really was. There were three name-tablets inside: his grandfather’s and his great-grandparents.

Kenma wondered if maybe the rumors of a haunting had started because of the shrine. It was very old and, well, it could look kind of creepy to someone outside of the family. Then again, it was a _shrine_. How could something like that be haunted? Was that even possible?

Kenma shook his head. It wasn’t, because those things were not real.

He took a deep breath, and observed the cabinet with a new-found calm. Maybe his dreams were just some symbol of repressed guilt. He never stopped by the shrine. He hadn’t bought the incense he thought of the other day either. That had to be it. He would have to set a reminder on his phone not to forget again.

He stood up and turned around to leave, but a soft noise made him stop. It had come from behind him, from the cabinet. _Wood creaks_ , he reasoned.

Still, he turned back slowly, and widened his eyes when he noticed one of the drawers of the shrine was slightly open.

 _Wood creaks, the heat makes wood creak and expand and_ —

Before he knew it, he was already reaching for the drawer knob. He pulled the drawer completely open. There was a small box inside.

A loud bark startled him before he could take out the box.

“Takeo! Shh!!”

The dog had sneaked behind him and was now on full barking mode. Quickly, Kenma shut the drawer and hurried the dog outside of the room.

He couldn’t find a moment to go back into the room that day, and he didn’t feel like going at night either, so he decided to let the mysterious box be for the moment.

That night, he went to sleep at a reasonable hour. He was part resigned, part curious. He was sure he would have the dream again but, even though he didn’t really believe in anything supernatural, he had to admit he was intrigued about the shrine and that, maybe, just maybe, he was expecting his dream to be something more than symbolism about repressed emotions.

When the dark corridor presented itself again in front of him, Kenma didn’t hesitate. He opened the door to the room, and looked at the figure at the end of the room directly to the eye.

“You’re not my grandfather,” Kenma said, and he was surprised at how firm his voice had sounded.

The figure tilted his head. “Ah, you noticed?”

That was not his grandfather’s voice. It was a voice he had never heard before, in fact.

Kenma closed his hands into fists and gathered all his courage to speak back.

“I don’t know what you want, but unless you stop using my grandfather’s face, I won’t even look at you!” He yelled, and immediately looked down.

“Oh? …Is that so?”

There was silence, and then the rustle of fabric. He had stood up. _It_ had stood up. Kenma was positive that whatever nightmare he had yelled to had left its spot by the shrine and was now walking towards him. Still, he continued looking down. He tightened his fists until his knuckles went white, and continued to look down.

When he could see the tips of a pair of shoes in front of him, however, he began to shake.

“Young boy, look at me,” the man said, and Kenma shut his eyes tight. “I have a deal for you.”

Kenma’s heart skipped a beat. He had seen enough horror movies to understand what he was talking to now.

You don’t make deals with ghosts.

The thing pretending to be a man in front of him, it had to be a demon.

“Hmm? You really won't look at me?”

Kenma held his breath when he felt fingers grabbing his chin. With the most absolute terror, he realized that they were lifting his head, and that his body was refusing to oppose resistance. If he opened his eyes now, he would be face to face with a demon.

It was too much. The demon's presence felt _too real_. It was a powerful force, tightening around him and stealing the air from his lungs. Kenma clenched his teeth as hard as he could, but even so, he could not stop his trembling. He was going to die. Kenma felt he was going to die and there was absolutely no way to escape. Tears gathered at the end of his wrinkled eyes; they felt cold as they fell down his blazing cheeks.

Suddenly, the hand cupping his chin was pulled away.

Kenma parted his lips. Relieved for a second, but afraid again the next. He was still in danger. He could still die, either by the hands of the demon or by the speed with which his heart was beating.

There was a short silence that felt like an eternity too painful for Kenma’s heart.

“…I’m sorry I frightened you so much,” the demon said softly.

Next thing Kenma knew, he was waking up on his bed, gasping for air as if he had almost drowned at sea.

 

After that, the nightmares stopped.


	3. Lucid dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. It's just that... life... is... fcuk
> 
> Anyway here's some lonely souls.

After the dream was cut to an end, Kuro found himself alone in the dark of the real shrine room. He took a deep breath as he tried to understand what had failed with his plan. He was sure Kenma was the grandson of the homeowners, or at least a very close relative. Why had he been so reticent to approach his own late grandfather?

Maybe it had to do with the fact Kenma had realized right away that something was off. Somehow, he had seen through his disguise, and he had not been very happy about it.

Kuro had not counted on Kenma being so perceptive. He had been “property” of the Kozume family for generations and, so far, most his efforts of communication had failed, discarded as ‘just weird dreams’ and forgotten before the morning was over.

Kenma hadn’t forgotten. Kenma had discovered his trick, and had even confronted him about it.

Or well, he had tried. If Kuro closed his eyes, he could still see him trembling in front of him; he could still hear the drumming of his racing heart. It beat so, so fast, like a mouse’s heart, or a rabbit’s, to give him some credit.

It had been unexpected and, in his opinion, an overreaction; but at the same time he couldn’t really blame him. With those sharp eyes of his, Kenma must have felt the real difference in their nature and he must have felt cornered. Kuro couldn’t blame him for acting like a cornered rabbit. After all, _in theory_ , he was what a wolf was to a critter, so even though in reality he meant no harm, it was useless trying to explain this to him if he was already convinced his life was over.

Kuro was a djinni. Kuro was a primeval being of supernatural power. Kuro had no idea how to deal with this particular human.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes harshly. That previous trick had cost him more energy than he had expected, so he felt tired. It made no sense. Kuro had slept for ages with little interruption. Yet, lately, whenever he used his magic to try to communicate, he felt drained afterwards.

It was like slumber was poisoning him. Slumber was coiling around him like a vine, bounding him in a second prison that was proving much more dangerous than his first, because each time he went to sleep, it got harder and harder to wake up again.

Now, after so many days of trying to communicate, Kuro was fighting to keep his eyelids up. They felt so heavy that, for a moment, he wondered if he should just give up. Approaching Kozume Kenma was tiresome, the result uncertain, but sleep? Sleep was ready to welcome him in its arms; it wouldn’t set him free, but he could dream, which was as good as it could get for a prisoner without hope.

In his dreams, he was not bound.

In his dreams, he could relive the times before the day he met the human that would later be his doom.

He had not been born amongst mankind. Like all djinn, he had been born in their kingdom, and only decided to step into the human dimension when he was no longer under anyone’s charge. He spent some time traveling the world, until he found a place where he decided to settle down. Sometimes, the memories of those times were the only thing keeping him sane.

The people of Ulthar had been remarkable people. Hard-working, honest, kind; they welcomed Kuro with open arms.

Kuro worked side by side with them, just as if he had been born in the same lands as them. They sweated under the scorching sun together, tilled the earth together, rested and drank together, and Kuro was never pushed to do more than he was willing to offer.

Because they knew. The people knew he was not human; his strength surpassed their warriors’, and his knowledge was akin to that which had helped empires rise in other places. They asked for this knowledge only once. When Kuro refused to share it, they all agreed to respect this decision and continue their lives as usual. After all, they already considered his friendship a blessing and they could not call themselves friends if they kept pushing for something he wasn’t willing to give, they told him.

Eventually, Kuro decided to share his wisdom anyway.

Unlike many other djinn, Kuro held no resentment towards humankind. On the contrary, he somewhat pitied them.

Humans had the capacity to be so intelligent, but their lives were so brief. Their bodies were so fragile against the elements, and so limited! They would never feel the true freedom of traveling as the wind. They barely had efficient tools, for both soil and mind, so their civilizations developed slowly, too slowly for a being with such a short lifespan.

Humans were just so abandoned, Kuro decided that if he could help them, he would; but only if they were willing to help themselves as well.

And so, Kuro started teaching humans some of his knowledge in science and magic. He guided astronomers, mathematicians, wizards, whoever was willing to get not the solution to their problems, but a glimpse of the road they should take to find it. Depending on the difficulty of their task, Kuro would sometimes reveal a bit more. Still, the fact remained that even if he was both riddler and guide, many benefited from him and his strange ways of teaching.

As time passed, they built together a prosperous city and, inevitably, the word began to spread. People from different parts of the world started traveling to meet the peaceful, generous djinni of those lands.

Kuro received the visitors in his home, but refused all petitions and offers. It didn’t stop them. They kept visiting to ask for favors, and it started to annoy him. He wondered if maybe it was time to take a break from all the now asphyxiating company and move somewhere far, far away. Somewhere quiet, by the beach, hopefully.

It was during that time that he met the man that changed everything.

But he didn’t want to think of that wizard. He wanted to remember his friends. He closed his eyes to focus, on their image, on the landscape where he once lived. One of his favorite memories was the one with the sailboat and the dunes. He had helped the children build a giant wooden sailboard. It wasn’t literally that big, but all of the kids fit inside, so for them it was.  The expression on their faces when Kuro made the wind work in their favor had been priceless.

He could almost hear their laughter. Maybe if he focused a bit more, and let himself drift away in the memories…

As soon as he realized what he was doing, Kuro slapped his cheeks so fast they were painfully sore and he fully awake again.

First of all, he was not hopeless. Secondly, his memories could feel safe, but the sands of sleep were shifting sands. If he surrendered to them, one day Kuro would close his eyes never to wake up again. That was no way to for him to spend the rest of his existence. He could not let what was left of his fire to fade away so easily in this joke of a ‘life’. He had to try, at least once more, to get someone to break the curse that had been so unjustly cast on him.

And so, Kuro made his best effort to keep his eyes open as the sun rose, the birds sung, and the dog barked. He had an entire day to figure out a new way to approach Kozume Kenma. He could not fail. He had already used so much magic that if he did, if he failed and went to sleep again, who knew when he would have the energy to wake up again… He shook his head and focused on the sounds around him. He could not fail. He could _not_.

 

When night fell, he was ready for another encounter. To be extra safe, he decided not to approach Kenma with his ‘true’ face, as he requested. Instead, he used a painted-over version, a human appearance somewhat similar to his; just in case he truly had a rabbit’s heart.

With steely determination, he wandered across the fog that separated the waking world from the realm of dreams, until he found the path that lead to Kozume Kenma’s dream world.

And what he found caught him off guard.

It was the most beautiful place he had seen in ages.

Kenma was running on the pale grey sand of a lonely shore, chasing a white, tiny dog. The sea was calm, shinning like polished crystal. And that sunset… Where to start? With the oranges, blues, and pinks that somehow were so vivid and contrasting yet blended in smoothly? With the clouds, looking like tinted cotton, some dense and some so light he just wanted to reach them and feel them dissolve around his hands? Or should he begin to explain how intense the setting sun looked, covering the waters and wet sand in dust gold?

Kuro took a step forward, and the feeling under his bare feet made him stop immediately.

He could _feel_ the sand.

That was not common; some people had ‘detailed’ dreams, but it was rare for them to feel as intense as this. Kuro crouched and pressed his palms against the sand. It was soft and warm. He buried his hands in it and then cupped some just to let it fall. It was just like the real thing. It felt so incredibly real that Kuro couldn’t help repeating the action. Fine grains flew away in the breeze; some remained stuck to his hands. Real sand. It was like touching real ground again.

A shadow drew near, and Kuro looked up.

While he was almost having a breakdown over sand, Kenma had already caught his fugitive dog. He carried it in his arms as he stood a few feet away from him.

And he looked angry.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Kuro stood up and scrubbed the sand off his hands. Kenma was a really perceptive kid to have noticed him before he had even introduced himself.

“How did you tell?” Kuro asked, genuinely curious. “How could you tell I was not exactly part of your dream?”

Kenma held the dog closer to his chest and studied Kuro up and down.

“You stand out too much,” Kenma said, and there was no doubt, there was hostility in his voice.

Kuro looked down at his clothes, then at Kenma’s. Maybe he did stand out, but dreams are dreams; one could accept the weirdest things in them. It was not that easy to notice.

“You’re very perceptive, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Who are you?” Kenma repeated instead of answering.

“Ah, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Kuro. And you must be Kozume Kenma, yes?”

Anger left Kenma’s face to be replaced with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I just happened to hear. Your grandmother prays a lot for you. Or well, I figured it was you who she mentioned.”

The furious frown was back on the boy’s brows. It was probably the mention of his relative.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?”

Kuro smiled wide. What was it that Kenma hoped to achieve crinkling his eyes like that? Scare him? Anger looked cute on him. Besides, after the previous night failure, it was clear Kenma didn’t have power enough to kick him out of his dream. It was futile.

“Hmm, what do I want?” Kuro hummed placing his chin over a fist.

To be free, there was no doubt. Still, he was starting to hesitate on the lies he had prepared to get Kenma to agree to this.

Kenma seemed young, and even though Kuro was no longer naïve enough to believe that youth equaled goodness of heart, he still felt inclined to give Kenma a chance. There was no more reason for this than a hunch.

He had never paid Kenma much attention before. Mostly, he was just a kid that visited the elderly couple frequently. It was only after he suddenly irrupted into the shrine room while playing with the real Takeo that Kuro started considering the possibility.

It was a stupid, probably very, very stupid thought, but at that moment, Kuro thought that someone who is kind to animals can’t be such a bad person.

Now, seeing him getting all defensive when Kuro mentioned his grandparents, seeing him protectively holding a dog that couldn’t get truly hurt because it didn’t really exist, Kuro couldn’t help but feel his theory grow stronger.

He wanted to give Kenma a chance. No more cruel lies and manipulation. He wanted to tell him the truth, and make an honest pact with him.

It was probably a very, very stupid choice, considering that him giving people a chance was what had gotten him in trouble before.

Kuro looked back into the horizon.

_What do I want?_ , he thought again.

It was this, as well. Kuro wanted to be free to be able to enjoy sights like that beach again.

To live, he wanted to live.

When he looked back at Kenma, his expression had changed a bit. His brave furiousness was turning into something like curiosity.

“Kozume Kenma, you’re very lucky,” Kuro finally said, “because I just decided to give you two options.”

Kenma’s lips twitched into a pout, but then he straightened up and raised his chin.

“What options?”

“First,” Kuro held a single finger in the air, “you make a contract with me.”

Kenma’s chin trembled so weirdly that Kuro had to pause not to laugh at him. What kind of faces were those?

“You make a contract with me and I will give you anything you want, in exchange of a very simple thing,” he continued and raised a second finger, “or, second choice… You don’t make a contract with me, but you take me with you.”

Kenma was visibly affected now. “W-what do you mean take you with me?”

“I’ll explain,” Kuro sighed and sat on the sand. He waited until Kenma reluctantly copied him. “I’m cursed. I’m bound to an object that is currently resting at your grandparent’s shrine. You will find it in one of the drawers; it’s a ring. To start a contract, you have to wear the ring and call for me. If you don’t do that, nothing happens.”

“…I still don’t understand.”

“I’m bound to that ring. I can’t go far away from it. All I can do is watch,” Kuro paused again. One thing was knowing what was wrong with his life, another was saying it aloud to someone else, someone real. “I’m trapped in that shrine and all I can do is watch as the days go by. If you took the ring with you, I would still be trapped in it, but at least I would be able to see new things, see the world, or well, your world, at least.”

During the whole explanation, Kenma’s stare was burning holes in him. Golden eyes scrutinized every inch of his face with a seriousness that was also very new and very delighting to Kuro. Still, when he finished explaining, Kenma quickly averted his gaze to the dog on his lap. Kuro gave him a moment to think.

“If I pick the second choice,” he started in a voice so low Kuro had to lean a bit forwards, “you’ll continue to harass me, won’t you?”

Kuro grinned. “Harass is a strong word. No, I wouldn’t harass you, but I’d stop by your dreams from time to time to remember you of the fantastic other alternative you have.”

Kenma pouted again. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Kuro grinned even more. “Does this mean we have a deal?”

Kenma slouched, and Kuro could have sworn he heard a low groan coming from him.

“I’ll need more time to think…” He said with his face hidden behind the white dog’s fluff.

“Sure, sure! You think that… Think of that well…” Kuro yawned.

The sun started to finally set, and its last rays seemed even warmer than before. It made Kuro drowsy, so he leaned on his side on the sand.

“You should really consider the contract though. I could give you anything you wished,” he mumbled.

Kuro tried to focus on Kenma, but the drowsiness wouldn’t let him. Everything was starting to get blurry at the edges, everything but his sharp, golden eyes.

“Sorry, I think,” he blinked; it took a second for his eyes to reopen, “I think I’m going to close my eyes a little.” He blinked again; his eyelids were so heavy. “Talking to you makes me tired. Everything makes me tired… lately.”

Kenma said nothing, but seemed to relax as well, because he let go of the dog and leaned on his side as well, one arm folded under his head.

His eyes never left Kuro’s. There wasn’t any anger or fear in them anymore; he looked just curious. Perhaps even predatory.

_Ah, that’s it._

Kuro had realized finally what animal Kenma really reminded him of.

“I don’t think you’re a rabbit,” he started, but couldn’t continue.

His lids had closed shut and his body, once so heavy against the sand, felt suddenly light as he entered sleep. In his last lucid thoughts, he finished the sentence to himself.

_I think you’re a cat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so, i'm writing based mostly on a book i found on djinn, but i'm not entirely sure the plural is "djinn" (like, i know that "djinn" refers to the race as a whole, and "djinni" is the singular form, but, still) so if anyone can clear that up, pls, help...
> 
> Also, while talking to some friends about my plans for this story I realized it was a bit denser and sadder than i thought *sweats*, and i want to add tags for that, but i'm not sure exactly what they should say... :´) i suck at tags ... 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway~ Thanks for reading!! You can find me at [say0ko]() on tumblr if you wanna talk. Bye!! See you next chapter!


	4. The number 4 is a harbinger of bad news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole fic is one of the things that make me go stand in front of a mirror and ask myself por qué eres así, yet i can't stop
> 
> so yeah! today you get a double update, for reasons i'm too ashamed to disclose
> 
> i hope it's easy to understand :c i wish i could have had a beta reader to help me..... but....... i was..... too ashamed to ask for help :''')))
> 
> anyway, here's wonderwall!

He blinked once, twice, and only by the third time his eyes could focus. It turned out that the blinding light in front of him was just the sand on which he was lying, and that the dark blurry spot in the middle was just Kenma, still observing him with great attention.

Upon realizing he had fallen asleep, Kuro quickly sat up. Kenma was still there, so that could only mean that, fortunately, he hadn’t been asleep for long enough to be forced to abandon Kenma’s dream.

“Ah, seems I got a bit too comfortable,” Kuro said while rubbing the back of his neck. “Where were we?”

Kenma said nothing, and Kuro took it as permission to continue.

“Ah! I think it was the contract. Are you sure you want to think about it? It really is the best option. Maybe I was too unclear on my offer. I can give you anything you ever wanted, on the condition you set me free afterwards. Doesn’t that sound good? Better than carrying around an ugly ring, don’t you think?”

Kenma continued to be silent, and this time it made Kuro suspicious. They didn’t know each other well but, seeing how their attempts at conversation had gone before, Kuro expected Kenma to retaliate with something at that point. A weird face, a scared question, an annoyed question, a ‘leave me alone’, anything but indifference.

“Kenma?”

Nothing. It was like his body was there, but nothing else.

Kuro grew tenser as his suspicion grew stronger. He didn’t want it to be true, so he stared at Kenma hoping, desperately, that he would finally act normally and prove him wrong.

“Kenma?”, he tried again.

There was no breeze blowing and no crashing of waves to make the wait a little less exasperating. It was in vain. Kenma only kept still; silent while staring fixedly at him.

Kuro wanted to ask. He wanted to make sure, but at the same time, he feared the answer.

_“Are you real?”_

It was a useless question, Kuro knew. If the answer was yes, it could be a lie; if the answer was no, it was the same. He always lost. Somehow, Kuro felt that even by feeling the need to ask, he had already lost.

Anyway, there was no need to pronounce the question anymore.

All the little details that answered his silent question were becoming obvious to his eyes now.

The sky was washed out of color and clouds. The sea was too far and too calm. And the sand was cold and plain like normal ground.

This was not Kenma’s dream. This was his own.

“…I never woke up, did I?” Kuro asked in the end.

His dream version of Kenma looked down. The silence was answer enough.

 

*

 

The last thing Kenma could remember before waking up was the demon falling asleep.

It had been… strange.

Yet not in the same way than his previous nightmares. In fact, Kenma wasn’t sure he could call this last dream a nightmare too.

If Kuro really was a demon, Kenma suspected that the image he had presented himself with was another trick, another disguise. If he was a demon, he had to be ugly, very ugly; _like a gargoyle, or something_ , he thought.

Anyway, the thing was that he did not look like a gargoyle; he looked like a normal man (weirdly clothed and in dire need of a comb, but normal enough), and even though his way of grinning was definitely unnerving, Kenma did not find Kuro that menacing this time.

Actually, he thought he looked kind of sad.

But this was a demon, and there was no movie or game where Kenma had seen a demon being sad. They were always angry, or laughing at someone else’s suffering; they never suffered themselves.

So there he was, eyes wide open at 1 am, carefully going through his memories of ‘Kuro’ trying to make sense of things, and trying to determine if he really had caught him playing with sand or not.

He didn’t even notice when the sun went up.

By the time he had finished breakfast, Kenma had gotten to an important conclusion: either Kuro was an idiot, or he thought Kenma was an idiot.

Because if Kuro had been honest about the ring, he had also given Kenma the key to get rid of him.

 _“I’m bound to an object that is currently resting at your grandparent’s shrine. You will find it in one of the drawers; it’s a ring,”_ Kuro had said. _“I’m bound to that ring. I can’t go far away from it. All I can do is watch…”_

If that was true, then the only thing keeping the demon at the Kozume residence was that ring. If Kenma got rid of it, he would never have to deal with the demon again.

_“All I can do is watch as the days go by.”_

The rest of Kuro’s words resonated in his mind, like they had done all night.

How long had Kuro been trapped in that room? The house and the shrine were old; he had probably been there for many years. That sounded horrible. Had it been him trapped in an empty place without any kind of entertainment or way of communication, he would have lost it very quickly.

But that wasn’t what he had to think of at the moment. Now, he had to decide if he wanted to test how true Kuro’s speech had been. He had to decide if he wanted to dispose of the cursed ring.

When his grandmother asked him if he could go buy groceries for lunch, Kenma took it as a sign.

It was the perfect chance for him to find a place to dump that thing, far away and without raising suspicion.

So he went to the shrine room and, after taking a deep breath, he quickly searched through the drawers.

Kenma knew that if he paused, even if just for a bit, he would start having doubts, and he could change his mind. He couldn’t afford that. This was nothing to take lightly. This was a matter that he had to solve once and for all, so when he finally found a tiny box inside, he took it out and opened it without hesitation.

Just like Kuro had said, there was a ring inside. He couldn’t tell what it was made of. It lacked luster, as if it had been neglected for a long, long time. The shape was also peculiar. It looked like a long snake that coiled around the wearer’s finger. Kenma felt the impulse of touching it to examine it better, yet refrained. He knew Kuro had said he had to wear the ring to start a ‘contract’, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

He took his grandfather’s old bike and practically flew down town.

He passed right by the vegetables stores, and continued down the main road until it ended.

In front of him, the beach was still empty, and the horizon was still covered in patches of morning fog.

He looked around trying to find the best place to leave the cursed object. Finally, he decided to go down to the beach and just throw it into the sea. That way it was less likely someone else would find it, even if the waves didn’t drag it into the ocean right away.

He chained the bike to a post and went down the stairs that lead to the shore.

He went as close to the water as he could without getting his shoes wet, and stood there.

This was it.

He was going to get rid of Kuro. He was certain, as he was certain he had nothing to fear. With what had happened that night, it was clear to Kenma that Kuro was not as powerful as he feared. He wouldn’t appear to stop him. He probably could only appear in dreams. And even then, just to an extent. The previous night, Kuro had looked tired as hell, and he had fallen asleep and disappeared from his dream as a result of that. Weak. Kuro was weak.

_What a pathetic display for a supposedly powerful being._

Kenma took the box from his hoodie’s pocket and clutched it as he prepared to throw it as strongly as he could.

_What a pathetic display… for a very tired being…_

The shadows of a group of seagulls passed briefly over Kenma as he stood on the humid sand.

Kuro was weak, and he was tired. Kenma could doubt him being sad, but there was no denying he was exhausted.

He didn’t understand why. If he really was trapped, there wasn’t much he could do to get so tired. Unless there was something else happening to him. There had to be something, some important piece of information that Kenma didn’t know about, something important enough to push Kuro into doing something as risky as revealing the existence of the ring to him.

So, besides being sad, tired, and weak, Kuro also seemed to be desperate.

Could a demon be desperate? Kenma didn’t know anymore. All he had learned through movies and games seemed stupid now.

All he knew for sure was that Kuro had been trapped in that room for who knew how long and all he was asking for was for Kenma to change that. He hadn’t even mentioned being set free, he had just asked him to take him on walks, practically. How desperate did he have to be to ask for something like that?

Kuro had taken a leap of faith by telling Kenma all that. And now Kenma was about to condemn him to the depths of the ocean.

Or deep under the ground, if the sands swallowed the box before the waves did.

Both options sounded like Hell.

_From an eternity inside an empty room, to an eternity deep underwater, or deep underground._

All of a sudden, throwing the box into the sea seemed too cruel.

All Kuro had done was ask for a change of scenery. In a creepy way, yes, but there had been no real damage.

Kenma had no real calamities to blame on Kuro (and he should have had many chances to create some). Kuro must have been an inhabitant of the house for as long as his grandparents, perhaps even more. Even so, there were no incidents in his family’s history to believe on the evil-doing of an invisible hand. Hadn’t Kuro invaded his dreams, Kenma could have probably spent the rest of his life without knowing he even existed.

If Kuro really was a demon, he was pretty chill.

 _If_ he was; Kenma wasn’t even sure anymore.

Kenma let out a deep sigh. Even though he had been analyzing things all night and morning, he still felt full of questions.

He looked at the horizon; the fog was all gone by then.

He closed his eyes and groaned; a wave had been strong enough to pass right over his shoes.

 

When he got back home, he had a bag full of greens, wet shoes full of sand and, still, a box with a ring.

After his grandmother helped him get his shoes clean and hang them to dry, Kenma decided to finally ask her about the issue. Not directly, but at least about the ring.

He brought up the topic casually, saying that he had found the box while dusting the shrine, and asking what its story was.

His grandma confessed she didn’t really know much; apparently, it belonged to his grandfather’s family, and it had been passed from generations. Her husband had tried giving it to her, but she refused to wear it.

“A friend told me snake rings bring good luck with money, but bad luck with love,” she said. “I didn’t want to risk love.”

It wasn’t much information, but the fact there were no mentions of Kuro still meant something. It meant he had minded his own business until now. And Kenma wanted to know why. Why had he appeared now? Why had he chosen him? Also, what kind of demon was Kuro to begin with? _A lame one, to let himself get captured like that_ , Kenma guessed.

“Why do you ask?”

The question brought Kenma back to reality and he turned to the old woman with wide eyes.

“Sorry?”

“Did you like the ring? If you want, you can keep it.”

“…What??”

“I mean, I didn’t think boys wore rings, but lately I’ve seen many youngsters at the waterfront wearing big rings and necklaces, so I guess the times have changed,” she shrugged.

Kenma was taken by surprise. First of all, had she just given away a ring, a cursed ring, like it was nothing? Secondly, what kind of people was frequenting the coast now? He hoped it was just rappers, or fashionistas, or basically anything but gangs.

“So, do you want it? I was going to leave it as heirloom for your mom, but, if you like it…”

So it was not that freely. She was just gifting it because it was him.

The cursed ring was being passed to him.

Kenma would have to be a hypocrite to count grocery shopping as a sign but not this too.

So he accepted, laughing nervously when his grandma asked him to try it on, and answering with a “thank you, but maybe later”.

 

When night fell, he left the box next to him and stared at it for a long while as if, somehow, now that Kenma ‘owned’ it, Kuro would decide to finally materialize in the waking world.

But he did not.

Kenma dozed off and, when he woke up the next morning, he realized he hadn’t pestered him in his dreams either.

That morning, Kenma felt unexpectedly disappointed.

 

The days passed and there were no signs of Kuro, and each night Kenma spent less time staying awake waiting for him to appear. He figured Kuro had been really serious about not bothering him if he took his offer (though, in fact, it was more of a favor).

It was a relief, in a way. Everything had gone well and, someday, Kuro would visit again, and Kenma would be able to ask him all his doubts before sending him away for another while. It was not really a win-win situation, but at least no one had lost either.

However, the calm at the beach house was soon interrupted once more, by a call from Tokyo bringing terrible news.

 

*

 

Kuro was not really sure how much time it had passed; all he knew was that he couldn’t wake up.

He hadn’t moved from the place he had copied from Kenma though. Even if it was not exactly the same, it was still a beach. Kuro couldn’t remember the last time he had even dreamed of one, so even if it wasn’t as pretty, even if the sand didn’t feel real, and even if he couldn’t get Kenma to speak, he was not that affected by not being able to wake up.

In fact, he thought he was dealing with it very well.

He had been talking to his version of Kenma the whole time and, even if for some reason he didn’t make a peep, he listened. Sometimes, he also frowned.

If Kuro didn’t focus on him and continued speaking without pause, it was almost like the real Kenma was next to him, like he wasn’t truly alone.

“So, this is a fort,” Kuro said while signaling at the rudimentary building he had made out of sand, “but it’s not _any_ fort. This is a model of the Fort of Gosho, have you heard of it? Well, it’s probably just ruins by now, but at its time, it was pretty nice. Not saying it just because I helped building it. It was really nice. We decorated the walls both inside and out. Even though its main purpose was to protect, it looked like a piece of art in the middle of nowhere. From the distance, it looked like a palace! In fact, when I helped design it, I was inspired by a palace, _my_ palace. You see, I’m not from here. We djinn have our own world, and we all live together in a beautiful palace. I’ll show you.”

Kuro carefully moved along the sand fort, trying to decide where to start rebuilding so he could show his illusion what the palace looked like in a rough, miniature version.

When he completed a full circle around it, he had to halt both his construction and his talking.

A realization had hit him, and it felt like someone had suddenly thrown him into cold water.

He couldn’t remember how the place where he had spent his childhood looked like.

“I…”

He hadn’t realized. He didn’t frequent those memories very much, so he hadn’t noticed they were eroding into dust. Frankly, he thought they never would.

But memories were memories; even the dearest ones could be taken away by time’s unstoppable passing.

Time was ruthless.

And time made no difference between humans and djinn.

Time didn’t care how few intact memories Kuro had left.

Kuro got on his feet. He needed to wake up. He needed to make Kenma, the real Kenma, say the words that would set him free.

He needed to go back to the palace. He needed to see it once more, even if it was just the gates.

However, as he sadly confirmed then, he still didn’t have enough energy to wake up.

All he could do was waiting, either for his body to regain some strength or for Kenma to finally call for him.

So he would wait. He had already waited for so long anyway.

Kuro looked back at his illusion of Kenma. Like the real one, he kept silence. He extended him a hand.

“…I’m tired of this place. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Kenma lightly grabbed his fingers and followed as the landscape around them changed, the water disappeared, the dunes got higher and mountains appeared in the distance.

“I’ll show you Gosho. We can spend the day there and then keep going east, to the mountains. There’s another beautiful place there, carved into the mountain. It sounds strange, but it’s actually very detailed work. I didn’t help with that one, though. Anyway, I think you’ll like it,” Kuro continued as he grasped Kenma’s hand entirely and tighter. Kenma was his only hope, and even if this one was not the one of flesh and bone, he would still hold onto him as long as he could.

 

*

 

The only reason Kenma was allowed to stay was the nurse having pity on him. The visiting hours had ended long ago.

It was past midnight, but he didn’t care. Three days had passed since the accident. Three days since the call that had changed everything. And Kenma wasn’t willing to wait anymore. He had a plan, and he had to make sure he was alone for it to work.

Kenma took a quick peek outside the room, just to make sure that the nurses were still at their station and not doing rounds.

The hallway was clear.

He took the snake ring from his pocket. It was a size too big but, as soon as he tried it on, the snake coiled tighter against his finger until it was a perfect fit.

It was a scary reminder that Kuro hadn’t been just a bad dream. However, at the same time, it was also encouraging. There _was_ power in that ring, so Kenma still had hope.

Not for him, because he was about to make a deal with a demon, but for her, which was enough.

He clenched his fist, and whispered Kuro’s name against it. Nothing happened, so he repeated his name louder.

And then, just like he had promised, Kuro appeared in front of him.

He looked surprised. At first, at seeing him, then, at everything else around him. Before he could open his mouth and start rambling away, Kenma took a step forward to ask him.

“Can you save her?”

Kuro seemed even more confused until he realized they were not alone in the room.

“Can you save her?” Kenma repeated, and then reconsidered. This wasn’t a favor. Kuro talked deals, not favors. ‘Anything he wanted’, he thought were his words.

“She’s my mother,” Kenma reformulated, “and I need you to save her. You have to.”

But the demon seemed to have frozen in place at the sight of the hospital bed, the vital signs screen at one side, and the many IV lines at the other.

“Kuro?”

Kuro blinked a couple of times and turned back to him. He looked strangely worried.

“Is she dead?” Kuro asked in a very low voice.


	5. First wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't care", he said, caringly, as he cared deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, at least for this fic:  
> djinni: singular  
> djinn: plural  
> ifrit: a very big, very powerful, very evil and hateful djinn.

When he first heard his name, it was so low Kuro thought he was hallucinating. But then the second call happened, and before he knew it, Kuro was taken out from his slumber and brought to Kenma’s presence.

Kuro was ecstatic. Even though Kenma hadn’t broken his curse yet, he had rescued him from sleep and that was so much already. Kuro was so happy he just wanted to laugh, and he just wanted to take Kenma from under his arms and lift him high and laugh as Kenma grimaced like an annoyed cat.

But he looked at Kenma and he didn’t look right. His frown was too deep, as were the bags under his eyes. His eyelids were slightly swollen and lined with red. Something had happened, and it was not good.

Kuro glanced around and realized that the place they were in was also unfamiliar. It was not like any of the rooms at the Kozume house. It was all too shiny and too white and too cold.

“Can you save her?”

For a second, he was confused, but then he figured this ‘her’ had to be in the room as well. Kuro turned around, and was met with an unsettling image.

A big metallic bed was in the center of the room, and a woman lied in it. Her head was bandaged and she looked like she was sleeping, though she also looked very sick. Next to her, some kind of artifact kept drawing lines and beeping. At the other side, a thin metallic post that branched out at the top held various bags, and the tubes that descended from them seemed to go down to the woman’s arm.

“Can you save her?”

An alarm fired in Kuro’s head as he began to understand the situation. He had been in a similar one once already, a long time ago. He had been taken to a cold room, and someone had asked the same question. But it had been too late. By the time Kuro got there, there was nothing he could do.

Kenma kept talking, but Kuro wasn’t really listening.

Seeing the woman lying there, it was inevitable to remember. Even after all the time that had passed, the image of the lifeless woman was still fresh in his eyes.

He would never forget that, he feared.

“Kuro?”

Kenma’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Is she dead?”

It was a bit blunt, but it was what Kuro needed to know most, so the words escaped his mouth without any filtering.

It was important. Kuro couldn’t bring people back from the dead.

“No!” Kenma yelled, and immediately put a hand over his mouth.

As silent and quick as a mouse, Kenma opened the door of the room and looked out. He sighed as he closed it again.

“We have to be quiet… I’m not even supposed to be here. If a doctor sees us, they might kick us out.”

Kuro took a deep breath.

He had not imagined Kenma’s first wish to go like this. Not at all.

If this was reality, it seemed as strange as a dream.

But it couldn’t be a dream, because there were many objects Kuro had never seen, and he knew his imagination wasn’t so great to put up a scenario like this.

“Alright,” Kuro said, though mostly to himself.

As unsettling as the situation could be, Kuro had to remember his own goals and put them first. Kenma had made a contract. Kenma had started a game in which Kuro’s freedom was at stake, and he had made his first move, so now it was Kuro’s turn.

And Kuro went to the door.

“Wait,” Kenma hissed. “You can’t go out.”

Kuro said nothing. He wasn’t really attempting to leave. All he did was wrap his hand over the handle for a while.

“There,” he said after releasing it. “Now, whatever you do, don’t touch this thing.”

“Why?”

“Because I hexed it. If you touch it, you’ll forget what you were supposed to do and go away to do something else.”

Kenma looked alarmed. “What? How- Why did you-”

“Doctors,” it was all Kuro said.

He went to the woman’s side, and Kenma followed closely.

The woman looked extremely pale and her skin and lips were parched. Kuro put a hand on her neck and could feel the faint yet constant beat of a pulse, so she was, indeed, alive.

After a quick assessment, Kuro concluded that, even though there was an obvious wound on her head and she was bruised all over, the woman was on the way to recovery. So her wounds couldn’t be the problem. Or maybe they were; he didn’t know Kenma well, after all. Maybe he was impatient, maybe he wanted to see her recover fast. Who knew? Not him.

Kuro turned to Kenma, who was looking at him with expectant eyes.

“So what exactly are you asking of me?”

In his head, Kuro predicted something along the lines of _‘heal her’_. It was obvious. It was not that great. If Kenma asked for that, Kuro would have to find a way to do the opposite, and he would probably have to hurt the woman even more.

He didn’t want to harm more people, but he had no choice.

If Kuro had been caught and imprisoned like the worst of ifrit, he deemed he should act like the worst of ifrit, so when Kenma made his wish, he would twist it as much as he could, so much Kenma would regret everything, and he would keep playing this game until the boy couldn’t handle it anymore, and he was forced to wish for his freedom in exchange of fixing everything.

But then Kenma opened his mouth, and though his words were similar to what Kuro had predicted, it was not something he was entirely prepared for.

“Help my mom,” Kenma said in a tone that was clearly of an order, but with a face that was of full of distress and fear.

Kuro stared at Kenma with wide eyes.

“…What?”

“My mom,” Kenma repeated with irritation. “She won’t wake up. Bring her back,” he swallowed, and then added, “please”.

_His mom._

Kuro felt stupid. Of course the woman had to be his mother. They even looked alike.

 _A mother, Kenma’s mother_.

Kuro pressed his palms against his eyes as he tried to convince himself that this changed nothing. It didn’t matter. He totally didn’t care this was Kenma’s mother he was supposed to hurt, or how much he would suffer, or how much he had to be suffering already. He didn’t care about those things.

Not at all. Kuro didn’t mind. Kuro didn’t mind about the mother either, and how she would suffer as well if he brought her back only to separate them again.

And in the middle of all his inner conflict, Kuro totally didn’t spare a second to think of his own mother, back at the palace, and how long it had been, and if she was even alive.

He didn’t care. He put his hands down and glared at Kenma to prove himself that, in effect, he didn’t care about him, and Kenma looked up at him with the widest eyes, his tiny mouth parted as if he wanted to speak but didn’t dare to.

And Kuro felt like he had a stone in his throat, because, truth was, he didn’t want to hurt them.

He was no monster, no matter what people in the past had said, or even what he tried to make seem.

Twisting this wish was just, _unnecessarily cruel_.

With a sigh, Kuro made a final choice.

He would ‘bring her back’, but that would be it.

There would be no consequences to Kenma’s petition, but he would not help the woman heal. That would be up to her, and whatever care she was being given in that white room.

“Go sit over there,” he finally told Kenma, signaling to a chair, “I need to concentrate.”

 

Kuro stood by the hospital bed and held the hand with less needles stuck in them. It kind of sucked having to enter this woman’s head. He had just been released from his own dream and now he had to go into someone else’s. But he closed his eyes and did it anyway. The task was not hard. In the end the woman was just sleeping. To bring her back, Kuro just had to find where her mind had wandered to, and make her realize she had to wake up; and the sooner he did, the sooner it all finished.

When the path to her mind cleared, Kuro found himself in a city. He walked through its empty streets until the dead silence became uncomfortable. Then, he opened a door. The door led to a different setting; the inside of a school. The hallways, the classrooms, the yard, it was all also eerily hollow, so Kuro wasted no more time searching there and opened another door. Then he had to open another, and another, and so on.

It was taking too long.

Kuro had seen so many places, he felt he must have seen all her life in landscapes. If those were memories and not invented places, that was.

“Hello?” Kuro shouted in the middle of a paddy field.

He wandered until it was clear there was no one else around there either. Since there were no actual doors, he just had to use the closest thing to a portal, so he covered his nose and jumped into right into the water of the field.

When he emerged from the other side, he found himself on shaky ground. He was inside a moving train, at the entrance of a wagon. In the other extreme of it, a woman sat alone.

It was the mother. Kuro approached her cautiously. Even though it was the person he was looking for, the scene still felt creepy. She was like a statue. Her gaze was lost in the window in front of her and she didn’t seem to be aware of anything surrounding her, not even him.

Kuro cursed not having asked the woman’s name before embarking on her search. He figured he’d just be polite and approach her slowly, not to scare her like her son.

“Hello?”

She didn’t answer, and Kuro was tired of dreams where people didn’t answer, so he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her for a more ‘direct’ approach.

“Are you Kenma’s mother?”

The woman’s eyes went wide at the mention of the name.

“Kenma?”

“Yes!” Kuro said triumphant. “Your son! Kenma! He’s waiting for you.”

With great relief, Kuro watched the woman’s eyes come back to life. She opened her mouth wide, as if she had just remembered his existence.

“Kenma,” she repeated, but with much more urgency.

“Yes, you have to go back,” Kuro instructed, more softly this time.

She stared at him with eyes as golden as his son’s, and Kuro smiled at her.

The wagon was being filled with a light too bright, so bright it covered everything. She was waking up.

 

When the blinding light dissipated, Kuro was back at the hospital.

“Hey, psst” Kuro whispered to Kenma, “come see this.”

Kenma practically jumped from the chair to the bed, and Kuro moved to the side.

It took her a moment to be able to open her eyes completely. She didn’t speak, but when her eyes fixed in Kenma, she gave him a teary-eyed smile, and when Kenma buried his face on her pillow as he carefully put an arm around her, Kuro knew he had chosen well.

But also that he had to take a step aside, because as emotive as the moment was, he was not a part of it. He couldn’t be a part of it. Not when he still planned to mess with Kenma’s life later. 

He couldn’t afford to care about him.

So he disappeared, and watched from a distance.

Kenma pushed a button on a side of the bed, so many times that Kuro thought he wanted to break it. Later, a group of nurses entered the room. Some of them seemed rather confused, and Kuro realized he had forgotten to ‘un-hex’ the handle of the door.

He tried to imagine what the nurses had looked like while trying to open the door, he betted it had been pretty funny.

A nurse escorted Kenma out of the room, but he seemed to be okay with it, so Kuro didn’t intervene. He followed Kenma as he walked across white, cool hallways, still invisible and immaterial.

Even though Kenma hadn’t really ordered him to stay hidden, Kuro preferred to remain so until he called him again. The more he looked around, the more uncomfortable he was. The building was too unfamiliar, and there were suddenly too many people, and too many rooms with beeping machines and wails of pain and loud televisions.

When Kenma stopped at a less crowded hall, Kuro felt relieved. Kenma didn’t call for him, though. Instead, he used what he assumed was a cellphone to call someone else. Sometime later, a man appeared at the hospital.

Kuro listened attentively to the conversation between him and Kenma, and deduced that the man had to be his father. He wasn’t completely sure, however. If the man was his father, then he should at least ask for a chance to see the mother now that she was awake. But he didn’t. He just gave Kenma a few pats on the shoulder and guided him outside the building and to the parking lot. Kenma got into his car without many comments.

Kenma sat on the back and fell asleep almost instantly. Kuro figured he had to be tired. Maybe he had been many days at the building. He didn’t know, he hadn’t asked. But he could ask later, when Kenma wasn’t so tired. They would have a lot of time together from then on anyway.

Kuro looked out of the window of the car and couldn’t believe what he saw. He had seen cities through the eyes of others before, in their dreams, but he always thought they were exaggerating. It was easy to twist the world in a dream.

Yet now, he was finally seeing the real thing. It was very late, but the city was glowing with lights brighter than the stars. The buildings rose high into the sky, and they seemed to be everywhere. He couldn’t believe all those buildings had people inside. They were so many, and so tall. Kuro felt smothered by their inhabitants even though he hadn’t seen them yet.

There were also many cars, of different sizes and shapes. He assumed they were all cars. There were many things he had to assume. He was not up-to-date with the world. His visits to others’ dreams were not that frequent, and he could not trust them entirely. There were things he only deduced through context. _Many things_ , he realized as the car kept going.

The car finally stopped at a residential area, in front of a house. The man pulled over and woke Kenma up. To Kuro’s surprise, Kenma got off the car alone. The older man waved goodbye, and drove away.

Before Kuro could ask anything, another person opened the door of the new house and greeted Kenma in. It was Kenma’s grandmother. Kuro stood away from them as they hugged. 

Kuro entered the house behind Kenma and was even more confused to see he didn’t recognize anything. Anything except the white Pomeranian, who came running to them and started barking as loud as its little lungs allowed.

After saying goodnight, Kenma went up the stairs and into a room. Kuro followed, he had to follow. The room was a bedroom, Kenma’s real bedroom, Kuro figured. He looked around; it had not many decorations but it had two big shelves, a desk, and a side table. There was a sound of a soft thud, and Kuro turned around to see Kenma had flopped face down onto his bed. He materialized again.

“Hey, Kenma,” he said as he poked one of Kenma’s feet.

Kenma only grumbled and curled up. He was sleeping. In those mere couple of seconds looking away, Kenma had already fallen asleep.

“Hey,” Kuro tried again, poking more insistently.

Kenma curled up until he was almost a ball, and frowned. Kuro almost laughed; even in his dream he was disapproving.

The djinni scratched the back of his neck as he wondered what to do. It wasn’t like he was in any rush now. Kenma was his new ‘owner’ now, and that would last until Kuro was set free, or Kenma died. They had plenty of time. He would let him sleep.

Kuro bent down, and stopped midway. He had been about to pull the covers of the bed over Kenma. It had been an impulse, but he scolded himself anyway.

 _Don’t get involved_ , Kuro reminded himself one last time as he turned around to start going through Kenma’s stuff. There were still many hours left until the sun rose. He had to distract himself some way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;u;  
> if you're reading this, thank you, for staying so far
> 
> i will now go to sleep, it's almost 4 am here


	6. Go Google It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ........hello, i'm alive
> 
> you know that quote that goes "love breaks my bones and i laugh"? well, for me it's more like "life breaks my bones and i try to crawl away begging 'please! please stop!!' and it laughs". aaaaanyway, i got a break! so here's a thing  
> i wanted it to be longer, but it's close to 6k words so i figured i should leave it like this... um... what else... there's a linked footnote about some language thing... because i love languages... if you click it, it has a link to get back to where you left the text. that is, if i could get the code to work :| // edit: *narrator voice* she could not get it to work. i'll just leave it in the end, no link..
> 
> oh! also, the descriptions at the end are from a real website and book, heh, i love that ❤
> 
> also, as usual, please pardon any mistake... it's 4 am and i'm a non-native speaker. that's it. have fun now

 

 

Kenma woke up with the sunlight that filtered through the window next to the headboard of his bed. He had forgotten to close the curtains, just like he had forgotten to change clothes, or to remove the ring on his finger.

He traced the curves of the snake with his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to do with the ring now.

The demon had already gotten what he wanted so there was no reason for it to still be cursed. The demon was free and probably far away. If he was still somewhere in the world or had returned to Hell, Kenma had no idea. He had no idea if the later even existed to begin with. But it had to exist, didn’t it? If demons existed, then Hell should exist, and if Hell existed…

Kenma brushed the thought away. He didn’t want to think of that. He didn’t want to reflect on souls, or how he hadn’t even been sure they existed before Kuro appeared, or what would happen to him now that they had made a deal.

What would be the point anyway? What was done was done and, considering the circumstances, Kenma wouldn’t try to undo it even if he had the chance.

Thinking of the future was scary, but if he focused on the present, it wasn’t that bad. He didn’t even feel any different. There was no emptiness in his chest, no more apathy for the world than what he usually felt at 7 am.

Sluggishly, he sat on his bed and stared out the window. The sky was clear and bright blue. Too bright, actually, for that time of the day, so Kenma supposed it was going to be awfully hot later. He was glad at least the hospital had air conditioning.

“Good morning,” a voice said behind him.

“Good mor-”

Kenma turned around so fast that his neck ached. The sight he found woke him up completely.

There, lying nonchalantly on the floor, the demon flipped through an old magazine of his.

Kenma wanted to ask what he was doing there, why, how, and then what again, but all the questions clogged in his throat and just a choked sound left his mouth as he stared dumbfounded at the one on his floor.

“Hey do you have any more of these?” Kuro asked, unconcerned by Kenma’s surprise.

Kenma moved his eyes to the thing Kuro was swaying in the air. It was an empty bag of melon pan. More bags lay scattered on the floor around him, all empty as well.

The discovery somehow managed to ground Kenma instead of confusing him more.

That was from his stash of candy; Kuro was there, in his room, and he had gone through his stuff, and he had eaten his snacks.

“Why are you still here?” Kenma asked.

Kuro tilted his head and gave him a curious look.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you still doing here?” Kenma repeated, a bit louder, a bit harsher.

“Huuh?” Kuro asked, still unmoved by Kenma’s hostile tone. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know, Hell?”

After saying this, a deep frown settled in Kuro’s brows, and deep regret settled in Kenma’s chest.

“Did you just send me to hell?”

“I…”

Not exactly, but if he phrased it like that…

Kenma looked from Kuro to the window, to the walls, to Kuro again, then to the door at the other side of the room, as if looking for ways to escape – as if he had a chance to escape the situation in the first place.

“I… did not say that,” he tried.

“You did,” Kuro retorted as he straightened up. “You said I should be in hell.”

Kenma wanted to talk back, to protest that Kuro was not answering his question, but he just couldn’t. Kuro looked angry and, as frustrating to admit as it was, it was still pretty intimidating to see him like that.

 “…I didn’t,” Kenma tried again, slouching. “I just… didn’t imagine you would come back.”

Kuro raised a single brow, and it was as terrible as when teachers made him stand in front of the class to answer stuff he had no idea about.

“I figured you’d be somewhere else,” Kenma added quickly, “somewhere… more interesting… or something,” he finished eloquently.

Kenma bit his lower lip and scolded himself mentally. That had been pathetic. Right then, more than hating Kuro for coming back, he hated himself for not being able to tell him, loud and clear, to fuck off and leave for good.

Kuro had nothing to do there, after all. Their deal was settled. The only reason Kenma could imagine for him to come back was that he had a new petition.

But that was just speculation – speculation to which Kuro wasn’t helping, because he was not replying. All he did was stare silently, studying Kenma so intently that he wondered if he was trying to read his mind.

“Kenma,” Kuro said finally, “did you forget? I can’t leave your side yet.”

At that, Kenma stared at him directly and with wide eyes.

It couldn’t be.

That couldn’t be.

That wasn’t the deal. The deal was that he gave Kuro what he wanted, and he would leave him alone. He had to go. He had to.

“That can’t be,” Kenma said, and started shaking his head inadvertently. “We had a deal.”

“Yes, we _have_ a deal,” Kuro said, “but it isn’t complete yet. You owe me.”

_Unfair_. Kuro was being horribly unfair. The deal they had made was already terrible. Kenma couldn’t imagine what else Kuro would like to take from him. Except, perhaps, his life.

“I don’t owe you,” he said, looking back down. “We made a deal. I paid my part.”

“You _paid_?” Kuro asked. “How the hell did you pay?”

Kenma looked up at him again. How could he ask that? If this was his idea of a joke, it was terribly cruel.

“Ok, hold on a second,” Kuro said. “I’m so confused I feel like we are talking different languages here. Let me clarify something…”

He took a deep breath and joined his hands in front of his face, as if he was thinking very carefully what to say next.

“Kid, tell me exactly what deal you think we have.”

Kenma had to take a moment to gather the words. It felt weird saying it out loud.

“Our deal was that if you saved my mother, I would give you my soul in return.”

Kuro’s reply was loud and immediate.

“Your _soul_?! Why would I want to take your soul?”

Kenma looked up at Kuro, whose face was contorted in a mix of confusion, disbelief, and something like indignation.

“Uh… Because… that’s what demons do?”

“You think I’m a demon?!” Kuro asked pointing at himself.

Hesitantly, Kenma nodded.

He could only nod once, as he was interrupted by Kuro’s sudden laugh.

“A demon! Me!”

Kenma waited, patiently yet annoyed, as Kuro’s laugh faded into graceless snorts. Whatever it was Kuro found so funny about he had said, he couldn’t see it.

“Ooh boy, I can’t believe you thought– Wait, that means–”

Kuro groaned something that sounded like a curse, let himself fall heavily on his back, and covered his face with his hands.

Kenma leaned forward, unsure of what the hell was happening.

They really seemed to be speaking different languages because he still didn’t understand the train –or rollercoaster– of thought in Kuro’s mind. He had gone from laughter to lamentation in less than a minute, and Kenma still couldn’t understand the cause of either emotion.

He wondered if there was even a cause for these reactions. He wondered if maybe Kuro wasn’t just crazy and he had failed to notice before.

Very slowly, Kenma crawled closer to the foot of his bed. He had no idea what he should do in a situation like that, so he figured it would be best to just wait for Kuro to calm down.

It took a while, a long while of uncomfortable silence, but after that, Kuro finally spoke again.

“I don’t own your soul,” he said with his hands still over his face, “and I have no interest in it.”

A burst of joy rushed through Kenma’s chest and he felt suddenly light, like a heavy weight had been pulled off his shoulders.

He kept it in, though. It seemed Kuro was not done speaking.

“I’m not a demon,” he added then, and let his hands fall to the floor. “I’m a djinni.”

Kenma blinked twice.

The first part was good news - excellent, _terrific_ news. The second, however-

“Um… I didn’t get the last part.”

“A djinni. I’m a djinni, not a demon,” Kuro repeated.

Kenma squinted. He had no idea what Kuro was trying to say, but it was important. He might not be a demon, but he could still be some kind of malicious creature. Besides, Kuro looked like he should know, so maybe he just wasn’t hearing right.

“Umm…”

“A djinni”, Kuro repeated patiently.

But Kenma was still lost, and it must have showed in his face because Kuro let out a frustrated huff.

“You really don’t know?” he asked, “You don’t know about djinn?”

Kenma pursed his lips into a thin line. _Apparently not_.

“…The shape-shifters?”

Kenma squinted again. That sounded pretty generic, supernaturally-speaking. He would need a better description than that.

“The powerful spirits of smokeless fire? The ones who come from the Infinite Palace? The one amidst the Emerald Mountains?”

_Ok that was specific_ , he thought. However, even with that specific description, Kenma still had absolutely no idea what Kuro was talking about.

It was kind of understandable. Most of Kenma’s knowledge of mythology came from videogames. It was not a very reliable source. Maybe whatever Kuro was was not represented in any game he had played, or it had been portrayed different to how it really was.

Kuro took a deep breath and brushed his hair back.

“Ok… Alright…”, he said, though it was more directed to himself than Kenma, “I guess… You’re young, maybe no one has taught you about us yet… Maybe we aren’t even known here…  I have no idea where I am, after all.”

“Tokyo,” Kenma provided, and when Kuro focused on him again, he lowered his face. “We’re in Tokyo…”

Before Kuro could respond to that, another voice from behind the door interrupted them.

“Kenma? Are you awake??”

Kenma froze. It was his grandmother. Had they been too loud? Had they waken her up with their talking?

“Breakfast is ready!,” she added.

That confused Kenma again. She wasn’t supposed to be making breakfast. The cupboards were too high for her to reach, so Kenma was getting up early to help her with that.

If breakfast was ready by then, it meant she had gotten up at 6 am or earlier, which was strange, because every morning she had as much trouble getting up as Kenma did. It was strange, so strange that Kenma wondered if maybe she hadn’t been an early bird but if he had overslept instead.

Kenma turned to his phone on the bedside table. He was right _._ Instead of 7 am (like he was assuming it was until then), it was past 10.

“Ah, that thing was making noise earlier, so I made it shut up so you could sleep,” Kuro said, triumphant.

Kenma felt a headache coming. The routine he had been repeating those last few days had been completely ruined. Both Kozume were supposed to get up at 7, have breakfast, and be at the hospital at 9 (which was the time when visiting hours started).  Now, not only were they late, but his grandma had prepared breakfast on her own, and she had walked up the stairs, and she-

“Kenma?” she asked, and the handle of the door started to move.

With a single adrenaline-fuelled jump, Kenma got to the door and opened it before she could.

“I’m up!” he said through a narrow opening that barely let see half of his face.

“Oh, good! Come downstairs, I made rice, and eggs, and …”

Kenma nodded as his grandma’s continued to slowly enumerate dishes, dying on the inside at her speed. If she didn’t leave soon- If Kuro spoke… _How am I supposed to explain to her why there’s a weird guy in my room?_

“Sounds good,” Kenma said trying to sound as calm as usual, “I’ll be down in a second, please go ahead.”

“Ok! Do you want tea? I’ll make you tea.”

“No- Don’t worry. I’ll make it, just wait for me.”

“Sure, sure,” she said in a tone that indicated she was not listening and not waiting.

Kenma decided not to argue and let her leave, but still, he continued to keep an eye on her as she got closer to the stairs. He wondered if she’d be alright or if he should go and walk in front of her, make sure she wouldn’t fall.

“The stairs-”

“I know, I know!”, the old woman answered with a dismissive flick of her hand. “Careful with the stairs, blah blah blah. Don’t worry about me.”

Kenma let out a deep sigh, and finally closed the door.

 

“That was cute,” Kuro snorted behind him.

Kenma turned around. His skin itched at the comment.

It was not cute. It was not fun. It was stressful as fuck, and it all was Kuro’s fault. If Kenma was going through all that trouble, it was to keep him away from his family and keep their problem as that, something that concerned only the two of them.

 “You,” Kenma hissed at him.

“Me,” Kuro said with a shit-eating grin.

“You can’t let her see you.”

“Why not?”

“Because she has nothing to do with this. Your problem is with me, don’t involve others.”

Kuro hummed, and shifted so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Free me then. Free me from my curse and I’ll leave you and your family alone, forever.”

Kenma leaned his back against the door. _Of course_ , he thought, _if Kuro isn’t a demon and we never made a pact, it means he’s still bound to the ring. That’s why he can’t leave_.

“What would I have to do? To free you?” Kenma asked.

“Just say some words. Very easy. Won’t take you more than a minute.”

It sounded good, too good.

“…Is that all you want?” Kenma asked.

Kuro opened his arms and shrugged.

“I’m a simple man.”

The offer was tempting, very tempting. If Kenma agreed, he would never have to see Kuro again. If Kuro was being honest, that was. Nothing assured Kenma he wasn’t lying, or that he wouldn’t bother other people once free. That part was very troublesome. After all, Kenma still wasn’t sure Kuro wasn’t something as equally dangerous as a demon. Trapped as he was in the cursed ring, Kuro didn’t seem capable of much action, but free, who knew what he would be capable of doing?

_You don’t get trapped in a cursed item because you’re an excellent person_ , Kenma reasoned.

Whatever Kuro had done in the past to deserve that punishment, it had to be big.

Kenma took a deep breath and stared at the floor. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say.

“I can’t do that.”

For a moment, the room went silent.

“…What do you mean you can’t?” Kuro asked.

Kenma clenched his fists. “I can’t… I can’t free you yet.”

 

*

 

Kuro stared at Kenma in disbelief. He clearly had to be hearing wrong.

“…You are joking, aren’t you?”

He saw Kenma clench his fists so tight his knuckles went white.

“…You are not joking,” he realized.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma said in the tiniest voice.

Kuro clenched his fists as well, trying to keep calm as he saw his chance at freedom slipping away.

It was not all lost. He could still convince Kenma that this was not optional.

“Are you aware,” he asked as he slowly rose to his feet, “that this decision of yours will have its consequences?”

Slowly as well, Kenma lifted his gaze.

“…Like what?” he asked in almost a whisper.

Kuro grinned.

“I did a favor for you last night, do you remember?”

Kenma opened his eyes wide in fear. It was good that he was smart. No need to talk more than necessary.

“You can’t,” Kenma said.

“Oh? Why not? That favor was actually part of a deal and you never paid your part. Deal’s broken.”

Kuro saw how Kenma’s face saddened at his implication. It was a weird feeling. Of course it was good to see a threat working. Entertaining, even. Still…

_How could he not be dead worried? Kid thought he was selling his soul to save this person – no, not any person, his mother – and now I’m threatening to hurt her again…_

Guilt soured Kuro’s mouth so he could not fully enjoy the success of his lie. Because it was a lie. He was not going to hurt the woman. It was just bluffing. Truth was Kuro didn’t have either the energy or the will to hurt her.

However, Kenma didn’t know that. He really thought her life was on risk again, so his reaction, all the worry in his face, it was all honest.

_He was willing to give away his soul_ , Kuro couldn’t help remembering.

Once again, Kuro was stricken with the feeling that he was being unnecessary cruel.

Kenma was human, but so far he had not given him any indication that he was like the people who had owned the ring before. He was not related to them by blood and the way he had acquired the ring had been just luck. Besides, as if that wasn’t enough, he didn’t even know about djinn.

As far as Kuro was concerned, Kenma was just a normal boy who loved his family to the point of doing really stupid deals to protect them. Someone who was that kind to his loved ones couldn’t be a bad person. Someone capable of such kindness wouldn’t let Kuro continue living in misery, if Kuro decided to stop lying and tell him his true story.

Kuro parted his lips to speak, but ended up swallowing the words.

It was not that easy. Even though seeing Kenma like that was making him hesitate - even though _hope_ was making him hesitate - there were other things Kuro had to considerate.

Kenma was human, end point. He might not be like the ones before him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn like them later on. The fact that he was kind to his loved ones didn’t prove anything. Kenma was human, and humans lied, hurt and betrayed. To add a ‘but’ after that sentence would only make it harder when Kenma finally decided to truly turn against him.

Kuro looked away. It would be easier to continue the lie if he didn’t have to see Kenma to the eye.

“Hey, hurry up,” he said gravely. “Make your choice. I don’t have all eternity.”

Kuro crossed his arms and huffed. It would be alright. Once everything was over, he could apologize to Kenma for the bad time and then they both would move on with their lives.

“…I’m not doing it.”

Kuro looked back at Kenma, confused. He couldn’t be serious, but, that was exactly how he looked.

He cut the distance between them and stood just centimeters away from Kenma. He didn’t know what game the boy was trying to play, but he would not let him.

“Listen,” he hissed. “You either free me or I’ll make sure that woman goes back to eternal slumber. I’m not playing.”

That should have done the trick, ‘should’ being the key word. Instead of giving up, Kenma continued making his stand.

“If you do that,” Kenma replied, nervous yet determined, “I will never let you go.”

For a moment, Kuro was left speechless. Before he could reply, Kenma added something else.

“If you hurt me, or anyone else, I will never let you go,” he said, and then, a bit lower, “I’m not playing.”

Kuro slammed the door behind Kenma with one hand, making the shorter boy jolt and try to hide his head between his shoulders.

“You!...” Kuro started, but didn’t really know how to finish.

He could still try to threaten him, but what would be the point? He was not going to hurt anyone. He didn’t want to and, as long as the mother was far away and Kenma was wearing the ring, he couldn’t lay a finger on them anyway. If he continued and Kenma dared him to try something, Kuro’s lie would be exposed.

It was a very good move, Kuro had to admit. It was also very annoying. He wondered if Kenma had somehow figured out that he couldn’t attack him or if he was just trying his luck. He hoped it was the last.

He took a deep breath and stared down at Kenma, who had gone stiff as a board. Even though he was still very nervous, Kuro was surprised that he was confronting him like that. It was probably because he had confessed to not being a demon. He wasn’t sure if he regretted revealing that or not.

With a deep sigh, he pulled away and sat at the feet of Kenma’s bed. If threats and violence were ruled out, then he would have to resort to the lie about the wishes. Once again, it wasn’t all lost… But playing the charade of the wishes would probably take a long time. He had the feeling that Kenma would not let him get away with it that easily.

The possibility of simply _talking_ to Kenma flashed through Kuro’s mind, making him groan. He was not going to simply ‘talk to him’. He was not going to expose himself entirely only to be betrayed again.

From the other side of the door, they heard the faint voice of the old woman shouting that tea was getting cold.

Kenma stared at Kuro, questioning.

“Go,” Kuro said, “but come back. We’re not done talking.”

Kenma nodded and left without more words.

Kuro didn’t follow. Instead, he sat on the floor of the hallway to listen to what happened on the first floor.

 

As expected, Kenma lied to his grandmother. She had asked him if he was ready to go to the hospital, and he had said something about feeling sick. The easiness with which he lied made Kuro uncomfortable.

_Guess they really are all the same_ , he thought gloomily, and tried to silence the voice at the back of his head that still tried to justify him.

When it seemed the old woman had left, Kuro walked downstairs. He found Kenma in the kitchen.

“You’re here,” he said as he hid his phone behind his back.

Kuro was about to ask him why he had done that when he noticed the breakfast plates on the counter. Some were empty, but the others were untouched.

“Are you going to eat that?”

Kenma looked at the dishes and shook his head, so Kuro took a seat at the table and started eating. It was delicious. Maybe it was just hunger speaking, but even if it was already cold, Kuro found the food simply amazing.

“Knnma,” he said with spoonfuls of rice in his mouth, and started to choke.

Quickly, Kenma got him a glass of water and sat in front of him.

Kuro gulped down the glass and continued eating. Just a couple of minutes later, the plates were empty. He cleared his throat and went serious again.

“Kenma,” he said as if no pause had happened in their conversation, “I would like to apologize for the way our conversation started. I have no interest in arguing with you, so I think we should clear some things to avoid any further misunderstanding.”

Kenma looked as if he wasn’t buying the apology, but said nothing.

“First of all… I am a djinni. I know you don’t know what that is, but it doesn’t matter. What does matter, though, is that you already have a contract with me. It happened when you put on the ring and called for me. Now, here’s the thing. Because of that contract, you have the right to ask for five wishes-”

Something lit in Kenma’s eyes at the last word, but he remained silent.

“-, on the condition that you wish for me to be released from my curse after that. Are you following?”

Kenma nodded and glanced to his lap. It was a very brief movement, but it caught Kuro’s attention because of how odd it looked, even in the already odd Kenma.

“Alright, now, about the wishes-”

“Ah, wait,” Kenma interrupted, “does that wish for you count as part of the five wishes? Wouldn’t it be just four wishes then?”

Kuro stared at him for a second.

“No,” he said after a quick consideration. “You have five wishes. You could say you actually have six, but you _have_ to use the last one on me. If you try asking for something else, it won't work.”

Kenma nodded once more and repeated the quick glance at his lap.

“Ok. Now, about the wishes. I can give you almost anything you want. There are only a few exceptions-”

“Ah,” Kenma interrupted again.

“Yes?”

“But after yesterday, wouldn’t I have just four wishes?”

Kuro paused. He had forgotten about that.

“Yes, you have only four remaining wishes,” he lied; because in reality, there was no limit to how many times the owner of the ring could order Kuro around. “So listen well to what I’m going to explain now if you don’t want to waste them.”

Kenma gave him the same half-hearted nod.

“So, the exceptions,” Kuro continued. “First of all, I can’t mess around with death, so don’t ask me to kill or bring someone back for you. Secondly and kind of related to the previous one, I can’t make you immortal. So I hope you were not hoping for that.”

As he said this, Kuro looked at Kenma very carefully. This part of the speech was important, so he wanted Kenma to get it right. However, he didn’t seem completely into the conversation. He kept quickly glancing at his lap, and not out of nervousness, but as if he was looking at something. _Maybe his phone?_

“Third exception: I can’t force people to feel things for you, but I can push them. In simpler words, I can’t force someone to love you, but I can help you make someone fall in love with you… Hey, are you listening to me?” Kenma’s distraction was starting to distract Kuro as well.

“Yes,” Kenma said without lifting his face from his lap.

“What do you have under the table?”                                                                             

 

*

The moment Kuro mentioned wishes, something clicked in Kenma’s head. There was only one magical creature he knew that granted wishes and lived imprisoned in domestic items.

_A genie! Kuro is a genie!_

He had not understood before because of linguistic differences[1], but it was clear as water now. Kuro was a genie and… Kenma still didn’t know much about him. He remembered watching an animated movie with one a long time ago, but that was it. Furtively, he took out his phone and started googling.

Kuro kept talking and, the more he explained, the more convinced Kenma was that he was right. He tried reading the results of his search, but it was hard to do it with the phone so far away.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

Kenma replied affirmatively as he skimmed through the description of the websites, trying to get as much info as he could from them.

“What do you have under the table?”

Kenma looked up immediately.

“Nothing,” he said, and hid his phone again.

Kuro raised a brow and leaned forward, but Kenma got ahead and put his hands on the table, lacing his fingers.

“Please, continue.”

Kuro kept explaining rules and Kenma kept pondering on his discovery.

Genies were often mentioned in songs like something good, wish-granters. Kenma didn’t remember much about the one in the movie, but at least he was sure it was one of the protagonist’s friends and not a villain. However, Kuro didn’t look like he fit that role.

Kuro was shady. He looked like he was constantly scheming something, and even if he hadn’t done anything in the end, he still threatened Kenma with hurting his mother. He had also been aggresive with him, back at his room. Regarding that, Kenma suspected that the only reason Kuro hadn’t hurt him was not because of what Kenma had said, but because the curse prohibited it somehow. It made sense. Brute force was the most practical way Kenma could imagine to coerce someone into doing something. If Kuro could use violence, he would have done it from the start.

He didn’t want to find out if he was right about that, though.

There was also another reason why Kenma found Kuro suspicious. It had to do with the wishes. He clearly had a set of rules about them, but he had not mentioned them before. He hadn’t mentioned them when he was threatening him, just like he hadn’t mentioned he still had four wishes left. All of this made Kenma think that he wasn’t being completely honest. He couldn’t trust all he said. Maybe even this set of rules had some half-truths in it.

“So, now that you know all this, are you ready to make your next wish?” Kuro asked once he had finished his tutorial dialogue.

Kenma hummed. He was much calmer now. Even with the little information he had, he knew one thing: if he made no wishes, nothing would happen.

“I will need more time to think about it.”

“Would you like some help deciding?” Kuro asked with a smile that couldn’t hide his discontent.

Kenma shook his head. Kuro groaned.

“You do realize that I have to remain by your side until you decide, don’t you?”

Kenma lowered his hands to his lap again and looked to the side. He was aware. He was not happy about it either, but it wouldn’t be for long. Despite everything, pop culture couldn’t be _that_ wrong about genies being good fortune. He just wanted to double check. After that, he would let Kuro go.

Besides, he really wasn’t sure what to ask for.

“I just need some time.”

With a sigh, Kuro let his shoulders drop.

“As you wish… By the way, do you have any more food?”

There wasn’t much left in the fridge, so Kenma opted for making instant noodles. It was for the best. Anything that kept Kuro distracted was welcomed.

While he prepared them, Kuro walked around the kitchen asking Kenma what each appliance was for and how it worked. Kenma gave him very short replies, but even so, he looked amazed by them. This gave him an idea.

After the noodles were ready, he asked Kuro to follow him to the living room.

Kenma turned on the 50’’ screen, and Kuro immediately was captured by the images.

“A television,” he said as if asking for corroboration.

Kenma nodded and sat on the couch, Kuro followed suit without need to say anything.

“How does it work?”

“Waves,” Kenma simply answered.

Kuro nodded like he had just given him the perfect explanation.

“What can we see in it?”

Kenma explained to him how the remote worked, and after that it was game over. Kuro was entranced by the TV and didn’t move his eyes from it. Finally, Kenma could use his phone.

Most results in the first page said the same basic information over and over. He found something interesting, though. There were others ways to spell the word. He tried with that.

“What are you doing?” Kuro asked casually.

“Um, just trying to check on the hospital,” Kenma lied.

“Oh, I see. Hey, do you have any more food?” Kuro asked showing him his empty bowl.

Reluctantly, Kenma went back to the kitchen. He returned with noodles, drinks, and fruit.

He went back to his research. The new results looked a bit more informative. He finally settled for one that started with the origin of the word. After a bit of scrolling he was excited to recognize some of the things Kuro had mentioned before, like the smokeless fire and the shape-shifting. He kept reading, and suddenly he wasn’t that excited anymore.

_“Since ancient times, djinn have been regarded as malicious and dangerous, harbingers of bad luck, illness, disaster and death.”_

That was… not so good. But maybe it got better later, so he kept reading.

_“Djinn are masters of deceit. They can never be trusted to tell the truth, no matter how sincere they appear. Even when granting favors, they have a trickster nature and can twist events for the worse.”_

He kept scrolling.

_“Djinn are vindictive, and will never forgive someone who tries to hurt them deliberately.”_

He was going to keep scrolling when Kuro’s voice distracted him.

“Ah!! Kenma this is so good!” he said raising his drink. “So sugary, yet so good. What is it?”

Kenma blinked a couple of times while processing the words.

“Fanta.”

“Are you ok? You look a bit pale.”

Kenma looked at the phone in his hands.

"Did you get bad news?" Kuro tried again.

“No,” Kenma said, trying to keep a neutral face. “It’s nothing important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Genie sounds somewhat similar to djinn, but the japanese words i found for "genie" or "magical creature" sound nothing like that. That's the joke °x° or, well, the problem..
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> thank you so much for reading ; ; !!! 
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> i wish i could say i'll update soon but every time i do that something happens in my life and i end up half-dead by the road and it takes me so long to get on writing again... so... um... see you cowgirl!... someday, somewhere....


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